What kept you?
by The Boeshane Babe
Summary: Set after CoE and leading up to the Radio 4 play 'House of the Dead' - Jack's thoughts...First fanfic - be kind!


(The story takes place after CoE and leading up to the radio play 'House of the Dead')

**What kept you?**

He leaned his back against the tree, dug his hands deep into the pockets of his greatcoat and let his breath out slowly as he looked at the rather ramshackle old pub that was earmarked for demolition. The last night of The House of the Dead, rumoured to be the most haunted pub in Wales and a séance held by a well-known medium would be getting underway soon.

Jack Harkness looked away from the pub and let his gaze wander. Could he go in? Could he face who he had come to see? He set his jaw determinedly – it was something he felt he had to do – but could he go through with it?

Six months. It had seemed longer than that. Of course the aliens known as the 456 had been defeated but at what cost? Jack gave a sigh remembering Alice's look at him straight after he had sacrificed his own grandson to save the rest of the children of the planet. The rest of the children of the planet didn't matter to Alice….her father had killed her son. Jack was as good as dead to her now and his daughter would never ever forgive him.

There was nothing left anymore. Nothing remained of The Hub and even the SUV had been lost. And his team…had he sacrificed them as well? True that Gwen was alive and well and blooming in the seventh month or so of her pregnancy but what of the others? Before the whole 456 incident had Jack somehow been responsible for the deaths of Suzie, Owen and Tosh? _He_had hired them and although they knew the risks had _he_ failed to protect them, despite their trust in him? You trust your leader don't you?

And the most trusting of all….Ianto…

Jack forced down a lump in his throat once again. It seemed no matter where he went on the damn planet he was haunted. He had tried enjoying himself in true Captain Harkness style but from the stunning Mexican drag queen to the drop-dead-handsome and decidedly cheeky New York barman who he had had one night liaisons with his mood could come crashing down again. Trying to escape yourself aren't you Harkness, you complete ass. Would going in the pub be some sort of closure? There was no answer to that unless he did it of course. Bite the bullet and go in….

No. It was too much. Jack walked determinedly away from the pub, turning his back on it. On Ianto…

He almost felt the voice of his conscience echo in his head. You damn coward. You didn't even go to his funeral. Why? – Because you couldn't face it. What? Did you think someone might see you cry? No! – It was….just the thought that they would lay his Ianto in the cold hard ground and leave him there…just no. He avoided visiting graves at the best of times…having been in one himself too often…and after hanging about planet Earth for over a hundred years there were too many people Jack had cared about, had loved….it was too painful…

Ianto trusted you. He loved you. And as he lay dying in your arms in Thames House you said all the wrong damn things. Hey, Jack Harkness being the big strong brave hero again! _This_ is your chance to put a little of that right if only you had the nerve.

Jack didn't turn round and walk back but looked at the ground lost in his thoughts. Over the past 6 months he had often hoped Ianto's death was a bad dream but every morning he woke and knew it wasn't. Once or twice he had dreamed of him, still alive – that shy smile, coming out with his deadpan one liners and the way so often he rolled his eyes. One dream had been so real, he was almost certain it was….he could smell the crisply laundered sheets of his bunk in the Hub, the smell and feel of Ianto lying next to him prattling, as he sometimes did, about the minutiae of another 'exciting' day's events at Torchwood 3.

"Are you listening Jack?" Ianto had suddenly said a little louder and followed this up by a slap on his belly with the back of his hand, "You don't bloody listen to me half the time do you…" Jack had grinned and slapped him back. The next minute they were wrestling on the bed, trying not to laugh, Jack trying not to let Ianto, who was the same physical size, get the upper hand. The dream was just getting really rather excitingly sexual when Jack had woken with a start….jolted back to reality. That was the worst. He had hugged his pillow tight in the cold light of yet another morning without his beloved 'Yan' and that time he had felt like crying…

Jack turned around and looked at The House of the Dead. This was a time to be brave, no matter what lay in store. The one person of all the people he had loved in his long immortal life that he had come to see….was Ianto. To tell him that he was sorry, to try somehow to make amends, to tell him he loved him….as he had been too afraid to do before.

Jack pushed open the door and went inside into a bar which seemed full of people. And there across the room, looking as real and solid as Jack was a smartly suited individual looking straight at him.

Ianto smiled that wicked shy smile and his beautiful blue eyes twinkled at Jack like they always used to, "Hey Jack….what kept you…?"


End file.
